Her Family
by KroganVanguard
Summary: What might be Miranda like as a mother? Of a teenage son? Explored. One-shot set post-ME3. Please review.


_A little piece I wrote when musing on what Miranda might be like as a mother. Inspired by a KMeme prompt. Reviews are my addiction of choice, please help me out._

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Miranda heard the door slam, and a bit of a grunt and then the thump of surly teenage feet as her son stalked up the stairs two at a time. That wasn't exactly atypical of him, but she stopped the report she was writing and walked upstairs and knocked on his room.

"Nick? What's wrong?" She put her hand on the door handle, but didn't step inside.

"Nothing. Go 'way." His tried to be curt, but she could still detect the undercurrent of hurt in his voice, and that made her heart clench. She pushed the door open, and walked inside. He lay on his bed, already as tall as her at 15. Pale brown eyes, unlike her and her husband's, avoided hers. He was still in that gangly teenage growing stage, always hungry as a horse, and she made a mental note to bring him a snack later. According to his credit account, he had not bought any food on the way home, and the lunch she'd packed him would not be sufficient for his dietary intake requirements during the day. He stared fiercely at his omni-tool then stabbed a button, and suddenly turian military nu-grunge filled the room. She sighed, but accepted his actions as emblematic human teenage behaviour especially for boys. Several experts agreed on that according the books she had read.

"OK. Listen to your music. I'll make you a snack downstairs." She shut the door on the way out. It was important he got a sense of his own space and privacy. The experts agreed on that too. She let her mind drift back to the days immediately the aftermath of the victory over the Reapers. How she had looked after Shepard during his convalescence. How they had begun living together, almost with an unspoken arrangement. His dark green eyes as he looked up at her on his knees, proposing. The wedding itself, which she had organised with her usual efficiency, and then seen the likes of Grunt and Jack almost derail in their own inimical style. When they'd first discussed adopting one or two of the war orphans, and how Nick and later his now-sister Amanda had come into their lives, almost a decade ago now. She had tried so very hard to be a good mother, and Shepard had been their supporting her at every step. It was hard when she had no idea, no personal firsthand experience of what good parenting was like. He hadn't been much better, his own childhood on the streets a far cry from what they were trying to build. They had learnt together. Made mistakes. Moved on.

She walked into the kitchen and started preparing an omelette, knowing the smell would eventually draw Nick down away from his cave. True enough, five minutes later he came ambling down, seating himself on a stool at the bench as she served the food.

"Thanks, mom." He ate noisily and quickly, inhaling the food down as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"You're welcome. How was school?" According to the information she had, there had been a test in history that would've gone well, and tryouts for the school football team. Nick was in the top 10% of physically gifted males in his school cohort, and had the right body shape and hand-eye co-ordination to make the team.

"Alright. Had a test. Was easy. Tried out for football. Coach is posting the squad tomorrow. Should be on it." He spoke in clipped, short sentences that reminded her of Mordin, of all things. John always told her not to worry, that he had been the same at that age. She always wanted to correct her son's sentences, but she held back. That was always her problem. She wanted to be involved, to help them, to track their grades, to hack the school computers, to keep an eye on them. Amanda was on camp this week, and she was tracking the mails and messages the supervisors were sending to their families and friends in case they mentioned something relevant. She had considered setting up a video surveillance network, but dismissed that idea as impractical…and somewhat over-the-top.

"When's Dad coming back?" He was fidgety now. Running his thumbs over one another, the rolling his arm over, massaging his shoulder. A mannerism that mimicked John right down to the bone. The kids knew they were adopted, and in the aftermath of the war, were more phlegmatic about it than she had expected over the years. Of course the uptick in adoptions thanks to the number of war orphans probably had something to do with it as well.

"Tomorrow night. I talked to your aunt Oriana today. She sends her love."

"Yeah. Cool." He took a long swallow from the glass of milk she'd placed in front of him. He was fidgety and not eager to go out and throw the football around with the Gallagher twins who lived down the road and were his best friends. That meant he was really troubled, and she now knew what the source of that had to be.

"Did something happy with Ayesha Srinivasan at school today?" She kept her voice even. She'd noticed Nick looking at the beautiful doe-eyed teenaged almost twice as often as he'd looked anyone else while she'd been one of the parental supervisors at the school fete. It had not been difficult to draw the obvious conclusion from his emotional and physical reactions.

"No." There was a blush in his cheek, and the word was out far too quickly for it to be true.

"Nicholas Lawson-Shepard." She put one hand on her hip and drummed the fingers of the other against the kitchen bench. Her tone wasn't soft, but it wasn't quite steel either. He sighed and crossed his arms on the bench, leaning down so his chin was in the middle, looking out of the window.

"Yes, alright, it was Ayesha. Don't you hate being always right, Mom?"

"Well…once in a while I'm wrong. Your father keeps a record of the times." She grinned at him, tousling his chestnut brown hair with her fingers. "You know, Ms. Srinivasan has a significantly higher average grade than you in maths or physics. We've been talking about getting you some a tutor, but why don't you ask her for some help?"

"She'll think I'm dumb. And weak." Nick mumbled into his folded elbows, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes a little, before they crinkled with warmth. Even now, sometimes, lying in bed with John's arms around her, she found it hard to believe. Her family. Her home. Her children. She would let her thoughts drift back to that awful day when she had got the medical reports about her infertility, when Shepard had quietly told her that he knew, and it meant nothing to him. When she had let herself cry in his presence for the first time. Show some weakness. Let herself be…imperfect. She had learnt a lot from those experiences.

"Not if she's the girl you think she is. Not if she's the girl I think she is." Miranda pursed her lips. She had double-checked Srinivasan's school record and family history. No skeletons in the cupboard, thankfully. "You know how your father and I…met. Doesn't get more helpless than being literally dead. Didn't stop me from falling in love with him afterwards."

"Ugh. Please stop." He finally met her eyes, and smiled. It transformed his face, radiant in the afternoon sun. Her heart welled at the sight of her son seeming happy. It amazed her how little it took. Hannah drawing her a picture. Nick and John throwing the football around in the backyard. A family. _Her family_.

"I'll ask her tomorrow." His voice wavered. "I think."

"Nick, you're a Lawson AND a Shepard, by nurture if not by your genes- and trust me I know more than most which is more important. You can do anything you want. Don't ever, ever forget that." She picked up on his hands in hers and squeezed it. "Ask her to come over to the house. I'll leave you guys alone, make sure Dad does too."

"OK." He slid off the stool he was sitting on, and headed towards the door. "Heading over to the Gallaghers now. Catch you later mom."

"Just be home for dinner!" She managed to squeeze the sentence in before the door banged again, Nick running out. This time it was a happier bang. She didn't know how she could tell, but she could. As she cleaned up in the kitchen, she hoped Ayesha would come to the house. She would be good for Nick, and vice versa. And if she came to the house, obtaining a DNA sample would be easier. Just to check.


End file.
